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I had the odds for finding a goodly-sized lady to take me from behind down to a science. It was all in the very first glance they gave, and I could tell in mere seconds who could and would, who might and might not, and who never in a week of Leap Year April Fool's Days would even consider it.
Never trust a gal who couldn't look you in the eye. Those were the ones who liked to be on the receiving end. They were in the market for abuse enabling co-dependents. That, or they were out and out insane. They might up and castrate you. Might just kill you by tipping the heater into your bath water. Avoid `em.
Always avail yourself of the lady who shot you a look you could feel in your bowels, the kind of look that rocketed in between your eyes and ricocheted off the inside of the back of your skull, straight down your spine. Worth their weight in lubricating cream, almost every time. But not if they held the look – duration could be a bummer. Rather, the look was fast, terribly intense, and like a shot in the dark. Your dark. Rattle your world and then some, but brief. Into your soul and gone, in an instant. An askew and brutal honesty in that look, and a profound blessing . . .
And the wonderfully odd thing about it was that those who
could probe you with their eyes that way could also read your
vulnerability just as quick. The reason the whole transaction was
almost instantaneous was because such ladies didn't even care to
play. No – play was not on their agenda. They wanted to do you.
They didn't flirt, they didn't take flyers, and they could tell with
that single deep probing glance if your ass was theirs. It saved a
lot of time.
I met the bulky Janine, for instance, at the supermarket, in the
produce aisle. I looked up from fingering the lettuce and plums and had to look away immediately – it was like getting slapped. Heavy-tittied Maureen, on the other hand, was several people ahead of me in line at the track – glanced my way as she turned back away from the betting window, and it was like getting kicked. You just never knew where or when such women would appear, but you always knew it when they did. Oht The brutal blessing of “coy no more!”
Broad-beamed Cindi was an older woman, mid to late 40s, and she was the kind that liked to be eaten out right after she'd laid waste to some lucky guy's ass. Met her at a Super America when I stopped for gas – she wore an old yellow front-button male dress shirt over very tight pink short shorts, and she lifted her leg as she bent to put the hose back in the pump after filling up … I couldn't take my eyes off her as she looked over her shoulder. Her sudden quick glance over at me as she held the pose burned through me like hot oil. She knew me instantly, and I knew she knew. Not a shadow of a doubt.
It was a hot afternoon in late June and Cindi was sweating so much there was a big wide moisture shadow all across her back that let me know she was not wearing a bra . . . I wanted to go right over and press the flat of my tongue against that sweaty broad back of hers. She had a bit of a belly on her and her legs were stout but strong. I followed her into the store to pay for the gas, my eyes helplessly glued to the enormity of her powerful hindquarters rolling beneath those short shorts. I stood in line directly behind her with my head bowed and my eyes helplessly downcast, covertly drinking her in. Just before her turn to pay, she turned her head slightly and told me, in a low tone of complete command, "Park yours around to the side and get in my backseat." When it was my turn to pay, my hand trembled as I forked over the cash. Then I went out and parked it. She was at the wheel and I climbed into the backseat of her big sedan
without so much as a word. She never glanced even once into her
rearview, and five minutes later we pulled into the garage and the
garage door swung down with a whirring sound.
She didn't even take off her shorts, just strapped on the harness over those skin-tight pink short shorts and told me to get on my knees. She told me to get it wet as she presented the business end of her strap-on, jamming its so-wide head into my mouth. As I did so, I stared up as she unbuttoned her shirt . . . her heavy bosoms swung free down toward me and I longed to replace the head of that strap-on with her nipples. Smiling down at me with a smile that was subtly touched with equal parts contempt and sheer assertive lust, she turned me over the workbench and reached around and unfastened my trousers and they slid down my legs. She yanked down my briefs and lodged her strap-on against the crease of my ass cheeks. There was a large tube of lubricant on the bench and she greased me up
thoroughly. We didn't even know each other's names.
I groaned as the thing slowly sank in. Cindi took hold of my hips
and began to grind into me, increasing the speed of her thrusts
gradually as I grunted and moaned in delicious discomfort. I was so willing, you couldn't exactly call it rape, yet that's exactly what it was. I arched my back and spread my legs, going into a semi squat to receive her tool, easing her way by concentrating on letting my sphincter go slack to take in its length. My hole grew wide as I welcomed every inch of her relentless implant. It slid in and out easy as you please, like the best hot summer afternoon's dream I'd ever had.
I could feel her good-sized belly slapping heavy against my lower
back as she increased her vigor. The impact of her belly with each deep probe of her motion was a wonderful extra added pleasure, the kind of delight that made getting done by a BBW such a very rich and special thing indeed. She whacked at my cheeks with the flat of her palm on the shallow part of the motion, another special treat! And then she reached around and up, taking my hard nipples between her fingers, pinching and tugging at them.
Her breath was a loud rasp as the rhythm of her strokes became
intense ... I was also panting, like a bitch giving birth, and when
her teeth sank into my shoulder I involuntarily shot thick streams of my cum in several long and forceful spurts, my cream puddling upon the workbench. And even when her action had drained me of every drop I had, she continued to amuse herself, having at me at her lusty leisure. Scalding tears of sincerest gratitude ran down my face -- when you can come that way without even having your prick touched once, you know you've been ravished by an expert. Butt-fucked straight to paradise, oh you bet ...
After many, many long moments of continuing to ream my ass that way, she finally pulled out and stepped away from me, stripping off the strap-on. I turned and with a glad and weary sigh slid to my knees as she stepped out of her shorts and she wasn't even wearing underwear and she took my head by my hair and pulled my face flush up between those sturdy thighs of hers, straight into her hungry cunt. She was sweaty from the day's heat and from the vigor of the fucking she'd just given me and her cunt tasted very sweaty and also very juicy, for she was the kind of gal who got a flow on when she was aroused and to give her head was also to swallow her juices and I did that greedily, taking the taste of her down my throat, quenching my own thirst with the hot liquid of her yawning pussy ... she used my head roughly, wiping herself deeply with my face, squeezing my head between those generous thighs. "Suck it up ... yes! Get that tongue up in there ... !" I couldn't tell how many times she came but it seemed she was taking and getting just exactly everything she required.
She straddled me so thoroughly my chin was pressed into the lower cleft between her broad ass cheeks and then she forced my head even deeper, so that my tongue's tip was rimming her anus and she pulled me close by my hair as she squatted her ass fully onto my mouth, forcing me to press my entire tongue deeper and deeper ... she had the loveliest way of nipping at my tongue with her sphincter, I could tell it was something she really liked and I could have continued tongue-fucking her ass that way for the longest time, but alas! it was not to be.
Still holding me by my head hair, she lifted upward and away,
commanding me to keep my mouth wide open. I knew what was coming and was eager to receive it, but when the hot jets of
urine sprayed forcefully down my throat it was a bitter and intoxicating shock and I gratefully swallowed every hot drop.
She dropped me off at the Super America, told me her name, told me I was a real sweet piece of ass and that she'd like to get up in me again some day.
I told her it was my pleasure, and she said, "I know."
Then she told me never to go back to that house, that it was where her ex lived, a building contractor she'd divorced several months ago. Said he was a mean man. Said she liked to take "dates" there for afternoon quickies, that it gave her a thrill when they shot their loads against his workbench. She said I was the third "date" she'd raped at the bench that week, but that she wouldn't be taking anybody back in there for awhile. Said it was time to let the ex clean up his bench. Laughed when she said it, and so did I.
When I asked when and where she could take me again, she shot me The Look ... it was like getting my balls squeezed ... I flinched and my prick twitched and immediately swelled back to life. I stood with bowed head beside her sedan as she revved its powerful engine. She glanced down at the bulge I had just sprouted with a leering and highly self-satisfied sort of smirk on her face: "I'll keep my eye out for you, Lover. Later." And with that she pulled out into traffic and was gone.
No courtship. Not a single pleasant word, till it was all over.
All in a glance, like I say. But Oh! what a glance! I had it
all down to a science, you bet. |